


Trying to Fix You

by nothingwrongwithnerds



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: All Human AU, Connor is human in this, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hannor, Heed the warnings of certain chapters!, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17727149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwrongwithnerds/pseuds/nothingwrongwithnerds
Summary: After the car accident, Hank returns back to the force— but not before finding someone to take care of Sumo, and, potentially, Hank himself.This takes place when Hank is a younger man. Everyone is human! Note: The warnings and rating will be subject to change with chapters.a̶l̶s̶o̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶h̶ ̶i̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶t̶l̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶l̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶s̶h̶u̶t̶ ̶u̶p̶





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been a few months since the accident. Hank had been in a deep pit of despair as he was ordered to sit in his house in order to both physically and mentally recover from the accident. But it was torture.

Everywhere he looked, all he saw was Cole. He saw him running through the kitchen with his toy airplanes when Hank made them breakfast; he saw him falling asleep next to Sumo late at night after playing with the young puppy; and he saw him running to the school bus right outside their house every single morning. It hurt being stuck in the house. Hank would have rather stayed deep in his work; but he was trapped in his own dark thoughts in what was supposed to be a place of comfort and happiness.

When Fowler called that rainy day— he wasn’t paying attention to what day it was— Hank felt relieved after what seemed like years. Fowler stated that the detective could come down to the station and they would talk about the possibility of him working again. Hank immediately got ready, pet the gentle dog as he walked out the door, then drove quickly to the station.

Fowler and Hank argued for a while. Hank wanted more cases; he _needed_ a large distraction from the thoughts spiraling around in his head. But Fowler was hesitant; after all, Hank just returned to the force after a rather traumatizing accident.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea, Hank,” Fowler finally sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Is your head clear enough for this shit?”

“Fowler,” Hank started as he sat down. “I’ll be honest, it’s not. But that’s why I want more. I need to be distracted. Do you know how fucked up it is being in my own house right now? I have to be heavily intoxicated just to stay in it.”

“That doesn’t help your case, Lieutenant,” Fowler responded with unease in his voice.

“Look, just,” Hank sputtered. “Just give me a chance. If I fuck up, put me off leave for another month. Deal?” He held out his hand to Fowler, who looked at it with a stern face.

After a few moments, Fowler huffed and took the hand firmly and shook on it. “Deal. But don’t fuck anything up, got it?”

“I’ll try.”

“You fucking better. Now get out of my office. You can start tomorrow.”

Hank stood up and walked out of the office, feeling the happiest he felt in the past three months. It was rough— hell, it was still rough— for Hank, but now he was finally allowed back to work. He thought about that as he returned to his car and drove to that miserable house.

Walking inside, he found his loyal Saint Bernard puppy waiting right by the door for his arrival home. Hank smiled at the puppy and kneeled on the floor to pet the dog.

“You’re the only one that makes this place worth returning home to, Sumo.” Sumo licked his face in response, to which Hank rubbed his belly playfully before throwing one of his toys.

Sumo chased it, finally happy that Hank had the energy to play. Both had been rather down after Cole’s passing, but now Hank found a bit of light in the dark— even if it was just temporary. 

As he watched the puppy play, he began thinking about all the possible cases he’d have to fill his time. While thinking of work, an important thought crossed his mind. _Ah, shit_ , he thought as he finally focused back on Sumo. _I have to find someone to take care of Sumo._


	2. Chapter 2

                Between the stacks of paperwork that Hank had been assigned to finish— yes, finish from the cases before the accident— he was attempting to write an advertisement for a dog-sitter. It definitely kept his mind busy and off his recent dark thoughts, which relieved the detective. After a few steady hours of work, he turned to the break room for a quick cup of coffee.

                He stood in the break room re-reading his ad over and over again. _Will this work? Well, it has to. Someone has to watch Sumo while I’m working all this overtime._ He finally shrugged his shoulders and posted the online ad. He really hated using technology and wanted to do a newspaper ad; but newspapers are almost obsolete now. _At least someone will be able to see it._

                He poured his coffee and grabbed the one mug he always pulled out for coffee: world’s best dad. It was a paint-a-mug that the kids got to do in school. The words were messy and used to make Hank’s heart warm and fuzzy; but now he looked solemnly at the cup. His eyes were wet, but he refused to cry in the police station. Instead, he focused on work and finding a dog-sitter.

                In a flash, the long day was over and Hank returned home. When he entered his home, he was surprised to see that he had messages from his ad; quite a few actually. He walked into the house and to the kitchen where he popped a quick TV dinner into the microwave. He read all of the bios and messages, humming in thought. _I better set up interviews._

                He sat down and ate his small dinner with Sumo laying at his feet. As he ate, he responded to the messages by setting up interviews with the various respondents. He finished with the messages just as he finished his dinner. He stood up and threw his tray away, then scooped up Sumo’s food bowl. He filled it and set it down on the floor before walking to his room.

                He began to undress and change for bed; but halfway through, he gave up. He sat on his bed with his work-issued handgun and looked at it for a very long time. His dark thoughts began to return before he sat the gun down on his night stand. He reached under the night stand for a big bottle of whiskey. He made himself comfortable and began drinking until he could no longer keep his eyes open. He slipped into a deep, drunken sleep, keeping off the dark thoughts for just another night.  


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days were repetitious. Hank would wake up, work long hours, return home to eat with Sumo, sit on his bed staring at his gun before getting blackout drunk and going to bed. They were repetitious, but quick.

Soon, Hank had a day off to conduct the interviews with the potential dog sitters. He managed to clean up the living room and kitchen at least, and dress a bit nicer than what he’d usually wear: not suit and tie, but not-stained jeans and polo. He combed his hair and slicked it back. He looked in the mirror and saw himself frown. Looking at himself made him think of Cole again.

_“Mr. Anderson,” the kindly young woman spoke as she sat at her desk. “Your son Cole is absolutely phenomenal. He participates in class, treats everyone with respect, and helps other students when they are falling behind. I'm truly proud to have him as one of my students.”_

_Hank smiled before asking, “Then what's the issue that you had to call me in?”_

_The teacher giggled before standing from her desk. “There is no issue with Cole. But so many teachers have to be the bearer of bad news and have to hear complaints from parents. But, I want to tell of good students as well— and your son is certainly a great student, as mentioned earlier.”_

_She walked around and showed off Cole's tests, writing assignments, and awards that the principal had given to the boy. Some of those awarded him for kindness, bravery, and his academic skills. Hank smiled at the awards._

_“He brags about you a lot,” the teacher interrupted the silence. Hank turned to look at her and cocked an eyebrow. “He tells everyone that he’s training to be a police officer just like you.”_

Hank's thoughts were interrupted by loud barking. “Sumo, calm down!” Hank left the bathroom and made his way to the front door with said dog following behind him.

“Oh no, Sumo. You have to stay in the laundry room.” He changed direction and had the dog follow him to the small room, where he set up the baby gate. “I promise I won’t be long, okay?” He petted the dog on the head before walking to the front door once more. He fixed himself a bit more before opening the front door.

A young woman smiled at Hank after he opened the door. “Good morning, miss. Are you here about the interview for dog sitting?”

“I am,” she responded in a bubbly tone of voice. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yes,” Hank cleared his throat as he invited her inside. “Sorry, I forgot my manners.”

“It's fine!” She followed Hank to the kitchen table, where they sat down.

“Could you tell me a little bit about yourself?,” Hank asked as he looked across the table. She nodded and began speaking while Hank looked her up and down—no, not in a creepy way; but in a detective sort of way. She was probably in her early 20s, meaning she was probably in college. Judging by her response to the ad, she must be enrolled online. She had long blonde hair which was braided neatly out of her face and was in a nice dressy outfit to match. _She seems nice_ , Hank thought. He focused back in a bit more.

“I've handled many dogs ever since my senior year of high school. I mainly focus on smaller dogs.”

Hank cocked an eyebrow at this bit of information. “Small dogs? Why?” He watched the girl bite her lip and her cheeks turn pink.

“Well,” she started nervously. “Big dogs scare me. They don't usually mean harm, but they don't know their own strength. So I’m really nervous around them.” As she finished, Sumo ran in from the other room with a baby gate dragging behind and around him. He jumped up to meet the girl, who stared in horror at the dog.

“Ah, Sumo!” Hank frustratingly yelled. “That's the third damn one! Come here!” He began chasing the dog out of the room, leaving the blonde girl in the kitchen. When he finally trapped Sumo in his bedroom, he heard loud whining. _I'm sorry, buddy. It's only for a little bit._

He grunted and mumbled to himself as he returned to the kitchen. The blonde stood up quickly and blurted, “I'm sorry but I can't take the job! Thank you for your hospitality.” She quickly left the house, leaving a sighing Hank in the kitchen. _Well, it was only the first. I have about 6 more to interview. We'll see about them._

The next few did not go so smoothly, much to Hank's dismay.

The second person to arrive was a middle-aged man. When Hank went to interview him, Hank hardly received any information about him and, upon the man asking how much dog fur is worth, Hank immediately dismissed him.

The third was an elderly woman who blow her smoke in his face and hacked up a lung as he opened the door. He didn't need to interview her at all.

The fourth was a man in his late thirties who brought a whole resumé of his past work experiences, most of which involved dog shows. Hank was actually delighted until he saw the man's name. _This guy was arrested by the DPD for assaulting dogs._ He looked back up at the man and shook his head, stating that someone previously got it.

The last two he received were so high on red ice that they barely knew where they were, let alone about his dog. Besides, Sumo growled at them and bared his teeth upon their arrival. (Hank gave up on caging Sumo after Sumo scratched the hell out of his door and howled for two minutes straight.)  They were denied and Hank spun them around to face the street so they knew where the hell to go.

Hank shut the door and groaned in frustration, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them. “Not one fucking person, Sumo,” he grit out. “Not one fucking person who responded to this ad can fucking take care of you.” He looked down at the pooch and chuckled a bit. “You're a terror, that's why.“

Hank walked to the kitchen and grabbed a full bottle of vodka from the top cabinet. He popped it open and lifted it up to drink when he heard a knock on the door. Hank cocked an eyebrow and looked at Sumo with a confused look. _I don't have any more scheduled appointments, so who the hell could it be?_

Hank put his vodka down with a grumble and strolled over to the door. He opened it to find a neatly-dressed man, a little younger than himself, with neatly styled brown hair and a fair, freckled face. He looked at the man up and down before saying, “Can I— Can I help you?” He felt that he must look and sound like a stupid bastard, but he was so confused as to why such a handsome man was in front of him right now.

“Oh, yes,” the man responded after staring at Hank as well. “I'm here about the ad for dog sitting. I'm sorry that it's all of a sudden and I don't have an interview—"

“Oh, no, no,” Hank reassured. “Please come in.”

The man nodded and stepped inside, seeing the puppy before him. “Is this the cute guy I might get to watch?”

Hank responded, “Yeah, but he can be a bit rough, so be careful.”

The man got down on the floor and patted his thighs, which made Sumo run at him. Sumo rubbed against the man and licked all over his face. The man laughed and pet Sumo, pushed him over on his side and rubbed his belly. “He seems harmless, actually.”

Hank watched in surprise. _He got on the floor in a nice dress outfit to play with the damn dog._ Hank kneeled next to the young man. “Sumo seems to like you.”

The young man looked at him, his brown eyes filled with glee. “I was hoping so. He's such a cute guy.”

Hank smiled. “I'm glad you like my dopey dog.”

“And I’m very glad he likes me.” They stayed quiet for a moment before the other man spoke. “Oh, I’m so sorry for barging in and just petting your dog without an introduction. My name is Connor.”

“Hello, Connor. I'm Hank Anderson. Could you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Connor began explaining his college major— criminal justice— who was trying to finish off his master's. He was in his late twenties— Hank was assuming around 28— and right now wanted a simple job to occupy him while he completed his master's online.

“I thought your job would be easiest and most convenient. Besides, playing with this little guy can relieve some stress as well.” Connor picked up a nearby toy and threw it, watching Sumo get up and chase it.

“Well, you're the last person who showed up,” Hank started. “But I am truly grateful you did. All the others were ill-suited to watch my dog.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you very much, Hank" Hank felt himself get hot at the gentle way Connor spoke. “By the way, when do I start?”

“You can start—" Hank was interrupted when Sumo bumped into his side, causing him to fall into Connor. Hank grew red, but blamed it on anger rather than embarrassment. He refused to believe the latter.

“Sumo, you damn dog!” Sumo sat in front of them, the drool covered toy still in his mouth and tail wagging wildly. Hank quickly got up and helped Connor up. “I am so sorry about that.”

“It's okay, Hank.”

Hank huffed and glared at the dog, who in response tilted his head. “Well, to answer your question, Connor,” he started as he looked back at the other. “You can start tomorrow. 9 a.m. sharp.”

Connor smiled and stood up quickly. “Thank you again. I'm so happy that I'll be taking care of your dog.” Hank followed his actions and stood up as well.

“Shall I show you to the door?”

“Oh, I'm sure I could find it.” Connor walked over to Sumo and gentle petted his head. “I'll see you tomorrow.” He turned back to Hank and smiled at him. “I'll see you tomorrow as well.”

Hank nodded and opened the front door for him. As Connor walked down the sidewalk, he turned around and waved good-bye once more. Hank waved back before shutting his door.

“Well, Sumo, tomorrow's going to be a hell of a day for both of us.”


	4. Chapter 4

Connor arrived earlier than expected; only half an hour early, but Hank was in the process of getting dressed when he had to answer the door.

“Oh, good morning, Connor,” Hank stated with surprise. “You're here early.” He moved out of the way to let Connor inside. As Connor stepped in, he quickly finished buttoning his shirt.

“You told me 9 a.m. sharp, but I always arrive early.” Connor stood close to the door, having no idea where to go from there.

“That's alright,” Hank replied. “I'm just not used to people being on time— let alone being early.” When Hank finished with his shirt, he looked over to Connor. “Oh, please make yourself comfortable. You'll be here almost every day, so please don't hesitate to help yourself to anything here.”

“Oh, I couldn't possibly—"

“No, no, Connor,” Hank interrupted sternly. “I hired you to be here almost all day, and I will not have you starve or go thirsty. Or even just stand by my door.”

“Well, thank you Hank.” Connor walked further into the house and looked around the small living room. He spotted the bookshelf and ran his fingers over the books.

“Help yourself to those as well. But be careful. They were my mother's and father’s books.” Hank walked into the nearby bathroom to make himself look at least a bit decent.

“I promise I will, Hank,” Connor responded.

When Hank finished and left the bathroom, he saw Connor still running his fingers gently over the old books. The sun shone through the window and directly onto Connor, almost illuminating his fair skin and giving him a glowing aura. He looked, well, beautiful in that moment.

Hank smiled gently at Connor before slightly shaking his head. _Cut that shit out, Hank._ Hank looked away from the gorgeous sight and at the clock on his wall. “Oh hell,” he said out loud. “Let me show you where everything is really quick and then I have to leave, alright?” Connor nodded as he reached away from the bookshelf, turning his full attention to Hank.

Hank quickly showed Connor where Sumo's food and water bowls were in the kitchen; the location of the large bin of dog food; the pots and pans— in case he needed to cook; _He better fucking cook_ — and various ingredients in the house with which to cook; and the bathroom.

“Sorry about the quick tour," Hank apologized. "I'll see you later. I won't be too late tonight.”

“Take your time, Hank,” Connor responded. “I'll take good care of Sumo.”

Hank nodded a thanks, threw his jacket on, and quickly ran out the door.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Work for Hank was a little rough. As he worked, he thought about Connor. _Will he be okay today? Will he need anything?_  Hank groaned at himself worrying over a grown-ass man that he just met, but he couldn't help it. Connor seemed very nice and he didn't want to either scare him away or have something happen to him because of Sumo, or even him. Sumo was a big puppy and rather rough, after all; and Hank was, well, Hank.

Ever since the accident, his thoughts were darker and more self-destructive. Hank wants nothing more than to eat that bullet or drown in alcohol. He began thinking about all the reasons again at his desk— seeing blurred, flashing lights and faintly hearing the siren of an ambulance; watching the LEDs of hospitals lights flash by; feeling a sharp pain in his entire body as he fought to stand next to his son; begging doctors to take care of his son more than himself; hearing the news that a doctor couldn’t operate on Cole; remembering every curse word slipping from his lips as he argued for a doctor to operate; holding his son’s lifeless body tight, no matter how much it hurt the broken bones in his arms; the tightness in his chest from sobbing over Cole and finally accepting the harsh reality of that day.

Hank craved that alcohol and his friend much more than the coffee on his desk now. But his thoughts were interrupted by Fowler calling him into his office.

 _Jesus, I just got back and I'm already getting fucking yelled at._ He groaned as he stood up and walked to Fowler's office. In the office, Hank sat down in the chair in front of Fowler's desk.

“I know you just returned,” Fowler started. “But we have a case and I wanted to see if you were interested in it first.”

Hank looked dumbfounded. “What, seriously? You want me to take a case already?”

Fowler looked at Hank before sighing and leaning back in his chair. “Not really, but I feel that you're the only one suitable for this case. As lieutenant, you have a keen eye and are very skilled. So,” Fowler paused. “Will you take it?”

“Fuck yeah,” Hank responded immediately. “What's the case? Is it a homicide?”

Fowler stayed silent for a few moments, then nodded his head. “Yes, it's a homicide.” Fowler threw a notepad towards Hank as well as a pen. “The first page has the address written on it. From there, you better fill it up with notes.”

Hank looked at the address. _This isn't too far from-_

Fowler continued, “The forensics team is there right now, so you better make sure you’re there soon to compare your findings with theirs.” Hank nodded in understanding, his eyes still glued to the address.

“I will, Fowler.” Hank slowly peeled his eyes away from the paper and in Fowler's direction.

“Then get your ass moving!,” Fowler yelled as his pointer finger stretched to the office door. Hank rolled his eyes before strolling out of the office.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter has graphic description of corpses and mentions of sexual assault. PLEASE HEED THIS.

The house was crowded with cop cars when Hank arrived at the small house. He knew the house well— it belonged to a neighbor. 

S he was a sweet young woman, maybe  around Hank's age, who lived alone.  From Hank's knowledge, she was single ,  and, if memory served correctly,  did not own any pets.  Her name —

“is  Emily Jameson,”  the forensic  analyst  stated as  Hank  ducked under the yellow tape.  “37, single.  She's quite the looker, too.”

Hank groaned to himself as he walked inside, half listening to the man shuffling beside him. After all, he knew this information about her. Right now, he just focused on getting his notes then getting the hell out of there. 

_ This shit is  _ _ depressing me so much more… _

Hank finally reached her body. The sight of Emily's body made him feel sick— and he had seen some shit in his short time as a homicide detective. Perhaps the sickness came from actually knowing the victim, rather than the sight of her body.

She was laying on her back , her arms  spread out on each side and her bent legs opened. She was nude in a puddle of her blood.

“Time of death was 3:47 P.M. today,” the analyst stated. “Her head is caved in by what we believe to be a bat. Her neck has a rope burn, which we're assuming was done while she was awake. Her body is covered in bruises and it looks as if she's been sexually assaulted.”

As Hank took in the information and stared at her body, his frown deepened.  _ I just talked to her  _ _ a few days ago. _ “Anything else I should be aware of? Any semen, prints, hair found nearby?” He turned to the analyst .

“Currently, no. We're still looking for all of that, lieutenant  Anderson.”

Hank nodded  sternly before watching the other return to his work.  He then reached into a nearby  kit where he pulled out a pair of rubber gloves.  He took a deep breath as he turned back to the body, his fingers working through each glove quickly.  _ Let’s get this over with. _

Hank kneeled next to her body, careful  to not  kneel in any blood.  He started  at her head, taking note of the  large ,  bloody crater there. Carefully, he removed a chunk of wood which was stuck there.  Hank stared at it for a moment.  _ Could be from a bat, but why a wooden one? _ He carefully  placed the shard in a small plastic bag before moving on.

He then examined her neck and upper chest. The rope burns were prominent against her tanned skin; even the deep purple color of the bruises stood out. _Punched_ _?_ Her collar bone looked broken, but he wasn't too sure. _What the hell could break that?_ _Maybe_ _a guy holding her down?_

His eyes moved further down the her nude breasts where he saw large, crescent-shaped indents in the plump flesh. _Sick bastard dug his fingers in._ _But that doesn't leave anything unique behind at all._

On her stomach were more bruises, as well as thin cuts. More  bruises were found on her hips along with  more  finger nail indents.  Hank found cuts on the sides of her thighs and felt his stomach sink further.

Further down — he gagged slightly.  _ Holy fucking shit.  _ He couldn't bear the sight.  Emily's genitalia was mutilated by  what Hank saw was both  the knife that cut the tanned skin and the bat that caved her head in.  Hank found another wooden  shard e mbedded along her vaginal wall.

H ank  looked along her labia and  thighs to see if he could find traces of any — well, anything; saliva, semen, fuck, even teeth marks would help him out. But sadly, there was nothing. He sighed heavily as he stood  up .

He looked at her body once more before tugging off the bloody rubber gloves. As he finished, the forensic analyst returned. 

“Did you find anything different, detective?” 

The tone in his voice, to Hank, was mocking. It was mocking him for double-checking the work of the analysts; after all, that's their job. But Hank was just being thorough. He did not want to fuck this up — especially now that he knew the victim.

Hank looked at him with a slight scowl before softening his face. “No,” he simply stated. “Did any of you find any prints or hair samples?”

The analyst shook his head. Hank sighed before scratching the back of his head. “Alright, then. Looks like I'm done her e . Have the coroner take her body and examine it further.”  H e  heard the forensic analyst respond, but he didn't pay attention to the words. All he knew was that he responded. His mind wandered far as he approached his police car.

He sat down in the driver's seat and looked back at the house one more time. The sun had set while he was inside. The lights of the house illuminated the figures inside bustling  to pack up, clean up, and transport Emily's body.

Hank sighed heavily as he began turning the clock back in his head to their short conversation mere days ago.  It wasn't an important conversation, but Hank had talked to her frequently as he walked Sumo. The dog loved receiving various treats from the kind woman as he passed the cheery-colored house . 

Now, the house would never look cheery, no matter its exterior. He gripped the steering wheel and grit his teeth as his forehead slowly met the steering wheel. He ground his teeth at the dark thought of a cherry colored house that would never have a cheery-faced Emily waiting outside for them to arrive. 

Hank felt his whole body tense and  his  shoulders start shaking.  The wet tears fell heavily onto the steering wheel below him. 

“I'll get this bastard,” he softly promised. “I swear.”


End file.
